Let Us All Make History

A Bewitched Burden

    John scampered along like a puppy, carrying his broomstick under his arm as he dashed to the center of the field so as to lap up as much appreciation as he could. The crowd was in the midst of going wild, all screaming and yelling for their chosen champion. It was obvious that John had the most support, for his cheer was the loudest and the most enthusiastic, however Sherlock was quite sure his cheer this time was much heftier than the one before the first task. He had at least gained the admiration of his school, and maybe the attention from others. The referee (the flying teacher of Hogwarts, if he wasn't mistaken) lined them up in the center of the field, Sherlock in the middle and the others on either side of him. He constantly felt John's eyes on him, even though he was sure the boy should be focusing on either the crowd or the task. Sherlock had his head craned up towards the sky, for as he had guessed he saw what looked like humanoid shapes silhouetted against the sun. Molly. And yet he still felt John's eyes on him, almost as if John had forgotten all about the task at hand.
"Champions...on my mark!" the referee called, putting a whistle to her mouth so as to start them off shrilly. To be honest Sherlock didn't see the issue here, it looked like a straight shot to the captives, all they would have to do was make a mad dash, well of course that would be almost effortless?
"Hey, Sherlock." John whispered, making Sherlock look over at him once more in very obvious confusion. John didn't even have his broom mounted; instead it was clutched over his shoulder almost like a baseball bat, almost as if he had forgotten all about it.
"What?" Sherlock hissed in exasperation.
"I think..." John was interrupted when the referee blew the whistle, announcing their mad ascent into the air. Sherlock and Sebastian were quick to take flight, and yet it took John a moment to get into position before he started off after them. Sherlock flew as quickly and as vertically as he possibly could, however he immediately saw the complications. Not only were the prisoners steadily making their way up into the atmosphere, but the other obstacles were becoming quite clear. Suddenly the sun was shadowed out by three large, flying beasts. They had the head of an eagle, and yet the body of a lion, sporting all sorts of wicked claws and beaks and strong wings. Griffins.
"Sherlock I just wanted to say that I really think blue is a good color on you." John said finally, appearing at Sherlock's side as he accelerated on his broom, clutching to the very top and slowing just so that he could fly level with Sherlock as they raced towards the people above. Sherlock could only blink, unsure if this was John's method of distracting him or if this was actually what was going to happen when they first began to talk again...if this was John's idea of flirting. Well it was a little bit inopportune, was it not?
"Thank you John, now if you could please let me concentrate." Sherlock pleaded; trying to will his broom to go faster all while it gave a nervous little tremor and threatened to flip him backwards as he tried to make it go even more vertical towards the sky. Sherlock was becoming increasingly aware of how far he was now from the ground, and just how much that fall might hurt...
"Oh who cares about this? Honestly I think that from this proximity to the sun your skin shines even..."
"John what in the world? Leave me alone, come on I'm trying to win here!" Sherlock insisted.
"Well if you want to be like that, fine. I was just trying to give you a compliment." John snapped, flying effortlessly at the pace of Sherlock and looking almost insulted, completely unbothered by the flying monsters that were steadily approaching.
"Thank you for the compliment." Sherlock snapped, finally having to avert his path so as to avoid the griffin that was starting towards him, its teeth barred and its talons slashing through the air as it flew. Sherlock did all he could to avoid it, however the creature was faster than he was, and now instead of flying towards Molly he was stuck doing loops and circles, trying to remind himself to not look down. His wand was in his pocket and yet he was much too scared to get it out, not only for fear of dropping it but for fear of losing his grip on his broom and sliding off the end. That would certainly be a fate that he didn't want to suffer. The griffin didn't seem all too interested in Sherlock, that was until he started to swerve around and act like very tempting bait. And yet he still had to somehow get to Molly, and so he pressed on, trying to zigzag in a way that was still getting him up towards where his hostage was slowly rising. Sebastian was much farther ahead, seemingly having outpaced his griffin for a while before he was forced to do some fancy tricks to avoid it. John was just giggling, going this way and that as if he had forgotten about his mission; instead he was watching Sherlock even as he tried to surpass the beast, almost as if he couldn't tear his eyes away. Sherlock was having his doubts about how normal that was; in fact he had to suspect that what was in Victor's water bottle might have been more than just water. There was a reason he had been trying to get Sebastian's attention, wasn't there? So as to trick the boy into doing just the thing John had done... with a shiver of regret Sherlock remembered way back when, Victor showing him a love potion that he had brewed. Was that what this was? And yet instead of Sebastian's feelings for Victor being amplified it was instead John's feelings for Sherlock...displayed in the most unfavorable and inconvenient time. Sherlock finally surpassed the griffin, he got around it and was headed towards the sky once more, Molly was getting closer and closer now, with Sebastian coming into focus as he desperately shot very off target stunning spells at the beast that was trying to claw at him.
"Hey Sherlock...Sherlock!" John was calling excitedly, flying up towards Sherlock once more with his griffin following behind, flapping his wings powerfully and ascending at a terrifying rate. Sherlock didn't even respond, now that he knew this wasn't John's fault he then decided to ignore it, knowing that this whole thing was undoubtedly his own fault. This mix up was going to mess up the tournament, it put John at a considerable disadvantage now that he didn't even have the intent on completing the task, and instead of was focused on getting Sherlock to be his boyfriend. Well any other time Sherlock might not have complained, but right now he not only pitied John but felt a strong urge to just get this over with, and with John tagging along he suspected that would take a bit longer than it would have before. Finally Sherlock moved up past Sebastian, and yet his griffin had lost interest in him and was now moving towards John, so that now the boy had to avoid two of the creatures at once. This might have been doable, for the boy wasn't just a quidditch star but an excellent flier as well, and yet he was preoccupied. He wasn't focusing on the task, but Sherlock instead. And so he was doing a very good job evading one of the creatures, but the second one had caught him off guard, it had taken him by surprise. And so instead of avoiding the swipe of its talons John instead flew right into it. Miraculously John wasn't injured, the swipe instead caught the top of his broomstick, shattering the wood into splinters and sending the poor boy falling towards the ground, nearly two hundred feet below. Sherlock cursed, for of course in no way was he going to leave anyone plummeting to their death, and so instinctively he turned his broom around and shot off after the figure that was plummeting at a faster rate than should be normal. Oh he was no flier, what was he doing going so rapidly at the boy? Sherlock was just about to slip off of his broom when finally he was able to pull up, positioning himself right underneath John's falling body so that instead of falling onto the ground, John instead fell onto Sherlock's shoulders. With quite a lot of yelling and quite a lot of contortion (not to mention excruciating pain) Sherlock was able to yank the boy off of him and position him on the back of the broom, ignoring the cries of thanks and the compliments on his outfit as he started back up to where Sebastian was already gaining towards the hostages, just about ready to reach his own. This time, however, all three griffins were on his tail. Sherlock took advantage of the creature's distracted state to set off as quick as he could towards where Molly was hovering, and yet with the added weight it was beginning to become quite a challenge. Not only that, but now John's hands were wrapped around his chest, now his head was pressed up closer into the crook of his neck, making it all the more tempting to just land somewhere off under the bleachers and make it final. And yet no, John was under a potion, Sherlock would never take advantage of such a heinous opportunity to get what was going to naturally come to him with time. John's love seemed like something that would not be nearly as beautiful if it was not genuine, and whatever this was now, well it seemed almost childish than anything. It was cancelling out every other feeling in John's body and amplifying his love so loudly that he probably couldn't focus or even think about anything other than Sherlock at the moment. And despite how flattering that was, Sherlock saw the flaw in it. They had work to do, serious work, and it would seem as Sherlock would be the sole concentrator for the both of them.
"You kind of suck at flying." John said with a tease, holding onto Sherlock's shoulders for dear life as Sherlock struggled to avoid getting killed or eaten by the beasts that were coming at them at a terrifying and deadly rate. They were cawing like regular eagles; however there was a sort of roar that was evident, something that put a shiver down Sherlock's spine as he considered the damage they could do. Their talons alone could cut open his chest, their wings could outmatch his slow and heavy broom, and their beaks could tear at his innards as if he was nothing more than a dead animal on the side of a muggle highway. Oh this was quite terrifying, and it wasn't like John was any help! Sebastian was already up at the hostages, now trying to drag down a seemingly unconscious Jim from the little bubble of makeshift atmosphere that had been magically placed around him. Oh Sherlock hadn't even thought of that, the oxygen levels at the top would be excruciating, if not nonexistent! The captives were safe and yet the champions were not...oh what a fool he had been!
"John you didn't happen to take into consideration oxygen levels?" Sherlock wondered hopefully, to which John just giggled and kissed the back of Sherlock's neck, the first touch of his lips that Sherlock had ever had the pleasure of feeling. He had to remind himself that it wasn't genuine, it wasn't real. He had to remind himself not to enjoy it.
"Is it because I take your breath away?" John teased.
"No, no because we're going up much higher than we really should be. Oh we're going to sink like a rock when we get two more people on this broom." Sherlock whined.
"Sebastian is going to win." John suspected, as the boy started to plummet down to the earth with two griffins now on his tail, Jim's body slung across his back as if the hostage was no more than a sack of flour.
"Ya, don't remind me." Sherlock growled. "As soon as he's out of the air all of those monsters are going to be after us. You don't happen to have your wand handy?"
"I have my wand but I don't know what you want to do with it." John teased.
"I want you to try to take out those griffins, obviously!" Sherlock snapped, to which John just giggled a bit more, his hands caressing Sherlock's chest as if he had totally forgotten about the danger they were both in. Sherlock was trying to concentrate, trying to ignore John's sudden need for intimacy, oh it was like the boy on the back of his broom was an added obstacle.
"I don't think I'll be very good at that." John hummed, to which Sherlock nodded in annoyance.
"Yes I have to agree." He muttered. Finally the captives were in range, for the third griffin had seemingly forgotten all about what he had to do and was now following his friends around as if he had grown bored of these little people on brooms. His ignorance was the first stroke of good luck, and finally Sherlock was able to get level with Molly's and (ugh) Mary's floating, unconscious forms.  It was definitely difficult to breathe, and even more difficult to get a good grip on the captives. For one thing John seemed not to care very much about Mary's wellbeing, he was just clutching so Sherlock's chest while Sherlock tried to level out the broom so as to ensure he didn't fall off while trying to grab Molly. In all honesty he would have no trouble leaving Mary to just float out of the atmosphere and burn on reentry, that would be no sweat off of his brow, however to kill John's hostage may lose John some points in the tournament, and that wouldn't be fair. It was kind of Sherlock's fault that John was disadvantaged like this, for he had been the one to invite Victor into the tent. He should have shattered those potions when he had the chance! Finally Sherlock got a grip on Molly's arm, and as soon as his fingers wrapped around her wrist she suddenly dropped onto him just as John did, falling onto the broom and plummeting them down another five or so feet as the weight was compensated for. The broom wasn't going to hold much longer, and they needed to get Mary on before she flew too far up for them to follow.